


A Spider Stuck In An Iron Web

by CountDorkula42



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Creepy Tony Stark, Non-Consensual Touching, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Frank Castle, Protective Matt Murdock, Tony Stark is a predator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:28:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountDorkula42/pseuds/CountDorkula42
Summary: Tony stark is creepy. Peter doesn't know what to do, but Matt might.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	1. panicc

**Author's Note:**

> Did i just write another fic without adding to any of the ones i've already posted? yeah...

Chapter One 

Thwip- thwip Thwack. Thwip thwip thwack. Just Spiderman swinging through the city. Good ole’ Peter Parker, doing his thing. Patrolling. There is absolutely nothing wrong. 

So what if he crashed into a building and fell a few times? Everybody has off days, super spider powers or not. And if he was swinging faster than normal, with no idea where he was going, the only destination in his mind being away, away from him, away from the tower, get away get away get away- Well, who could blame him? 

He wasn’t doing any of this on purpose. Really, he wasn't. He just didn’t know what to do. He was probably supposed to go to the police, but what could he say? ‘Hey Officer, Tony Stark stood too close to me a few times, that’s illegal, right’? It’d be ridiculous. 

It was probably all his imagination anyway. He was blowing this completely out of proportion. This is nothing like before. Mr.Stark would never do that. He wouldn’t. 

Besides, Peter was Spiderman now. Nobody could hurt him like that again. He must be going crazy. Oh god, he was fucking insane. 

He swung forward and shot another web when he realized everything was blurry. Why was everything blurry? He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? Oh fuck, he was panicking.

He half-landed half-crashed on top of the next building he saw stumbling forward before falling to the ground. It’s okay, I’m okay. Breathe.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there crying when he hears someone else land on the roof beside him. 

“Spiderman?” 

Barely recognizing Double D’s concerned voice through the fog of his panic, Peter opens his mouth to utter some variation of ‘I’m fine’, but all that comes out is a low whimper. He feels a hand on his shoulder but it leaves before he can even flinch. He opens his eyes to see the blurry figure of his friend crouched in front of him. “Daredevil,” he cries quietly, “I don’t, I don’t know w’ to do”. 

“Spiderman,” Daredevil says urgently, “Are you hurt?” He asks, and when Peter shakes his head with a sniffle, he follows it up with, “Can I touch you?”  
Reaching his hand out, The Devil waits for his answer. After a moment of Peter’s silence, He nodded and pulled his hand back. “That’s okay.”

This, embarrassingly enough led to another round of sobs from Peter, as he started to hyperventilate again. “Hey, it’s okay Peter you’re okay”, the leather clad vigilante tried to reassure him, but it did little to stop his panic attack. “Okay, Peter, um… Name five things you can see.”

“I, um, uh, you, I see you. The ground, and, and, my, um, hands. That, uhm, puddle.” He took a deep breath and looked up, the blurriness receding. “That bird,” He says, spotting a pigeon on the ground a few feet behind them.

“Okay, that's good,” Daredevil says with a reassuring nod, seemingly less panicked. “Now four things you can hear.”

Peter nodded shakily, recognizing this as a grounding technique he learned in therapy years ago. “ I hear, um, your breathing, and, uh, sirens…” He closed his eyes and reached out with his senses. “Your heartbeat, and… the baby crying down stairs” 

“Three things you can feel”

“My suit,” He starts, feeling the smooth material. ‘The suit Tony made you’ He thinks, and he feels his breath stutter. Hoping Daredevil didn’t notice, he continued,”Um, the floor, and the, uhm, my web shooters.” 

“You’re doing great, Spidey. Two things you smell.”

Peter inhaled, and received the familiar scent of New York City streets. “Sweat, and um, churros.”

“Okay. Can you look at me?”

He opened his eyes and realized he wasn’t crying anymore. He just felt tired. Making eye contact with the devil, Peter knew he would be incredibly embarrassed in the morning, but for now, he just wanted to sleep. 

“ ‘M sorry” He mutters, shifting his weight to stand up. In one fluid movement, Daredevil stands and reaches out to help Peter up.

“Don’t be sorry.” The Devil orders, his usual ominous tone overshadowed by concern. “Do you have somewhere to stay tonight, kid?”

“I’ll be fine, Mr.Daredevil,” Peter says, wrapping his arms around himself. “And I’m not a kid”

“Spiderman, I’m not letting you stay out here all night, especially after a panic attack. Do you have anywhere to go?” Daredevil asks, and Peter barely suppresses a flinch.

Last time he had left so abruptly, he had fled straight back to his apartment and by the time he got there, Mr.Stark was already inside. He was laughing with Aunt May in the middle of the living room, as if he had done nothing wrong.

And he hadn’t, had he? Sure, he had pressed against Peters back, his landing on his hip, but Mr.Stark hadn’t touched him there. Nothing Mr.Stark did was inappropriate, and anyway, Peter never told him he was uncomfortable. He hadn’t expressed that the touch gave him the same heebie jeebies as the creepy janitor at midtown, or that Mr.Stark’s breath on his neck made him want to vomit up the bagel he had that morning. 

“Kid?” Daredevil asked questioningly.

Realizing he still hadn’t answered Double D’s question, Peter rubbed the back of his neck and started nervously sputtering out excuses. 

“Um, well I, I’ll figure something out, Mister Devil. Don't worry about me” He makes to leave when Daredevil stops him.

“Look, I just watched you have a panic attack on the roof. I’m not about to let go get yourself killed in an alley, Spiderman. You can come home with me.” His stern voice makes Peter look down, defeated. He didn’t have the energy to argue, not right now. 

“Okay” He acquiesced, his arms falling uselessly at his sides. 

Daredevil attempted a small smile, something Peter surely would have commented on had he not been too scared of upsetting him right now. He had already embarrassed himself enough for one night.

“Follow me?” The devil asks, and when Peter nodded his assent, They took off. Traipsing over the city with the other vigilante, Peter almost forgot why he was upset. 

Eventually, they came to a stop on top of an apartment building, and Daredevil opened the roof access. They made their way to the Devils apartment in silence, Peter not wanting to bug him. Throwing open the door, he turned to Peter as he walked in. 

“Where are the lights?” Peter asks, as the only thing illuminating the apartment was the neon billboard directly outside the window. 

“The switch is to your left,” Daredevil said, and when Peter turned on the lights the first thing he saw was -

“Ahhh!” Peter said, covering his eyes with his hands. “What are you- Why did you take off your mask?” 

“You’re already in my apartment,” Daredevil says, shrugging. “Might as well. My name’s Matt”

“Um, okay,” Peter says, feeling surprised, and kind of honored. Daredevil trusted him. Wow. 

“Now go to sleep” Daredevil- Matt instructed, pointing to the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

Staring up at the ceiling, Peter was wide awake, despite being hyper-aware of his own mind numbing exhaustion, his thoughts racing

He had suspected the older vigilante was blind for a while, from all their past interactions. The eyes of Matt’s helmet not being see-through had been a pretty solid clue. But Peter had assumed Matt’s super senses were just better than his own, and let it be. Now that Matt confirmed his Blind Daredevil theory…Well, Peter was impressed. And worried. 

If Matt was blind, his other senses must be through the roof to do everything he does. If he was that perceptive, how much did he know about Peter? 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   
click  
Eyes snapping open, Peter wakes up to the sound of a cocking gun. He jumps up, sticking to the ceiling on instinct. He saw the upside down figure of the gunman, who looked positively flabbergasted (He stole that word from MJ). 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” The upside down man exclaimed, raising his gun to point at Peter. “What the fuck?” He demanded, which was a very open ended question.

“Frank, language. And put the gun down. Peter, off the ceiling.” Matt ordered, walking out of his room and into the kitchen. He began making himself coffee, as if this was just a regular ole’ Tuesday. 

Was it Tuesday? It was either that or Wednesday. Oh shit, he was so gonna be late for school.

Relaxing his arms so he was just hanging upside down from the ceiling by his feet, Peter looked around but didn’t see a clock on the wall. Oh, right. Blind guy. 

“What time is it?” He asked. 

Matt opened his mouth, presumably to answer him, but before he could say anything the still upside down gunman interrupted him, lowering his gun.

“What the fuck?” He repeated, this time directed at Matt. 

“Look, man, that is a really open ended question.” Peter criticised, and was promptly ignored. 

“Frank, Spiderman. Spiderman, Frank Castle.” Matt introduced them, and Peter instantly recognizes him as the Punisher, the guy that used to be all over the news.

Giving a little wave, Peter greeted the surly fellow with “Hiya, Mr.Punisher, Sir. Nice to meet you.” 

“Yeah, you too, man.” The inverted man replied distractedly, following it up with a hurried “Why is he here?” towards Matt. 

“The kid needed a place to crash, I brought him here.” Peter silently thanked a deity for Matt not telling the Punisher about his freak out last night.

“‘The kid?’” Mr. Castle echoed, voice tinged with disbelief. “How old is he?” He asked, suddenly extremely serious, and only slightly hysterical.

“I’m old enough!” Peter protested, tired of them talking about him as if he wasn't there. He flipped off the ceiling, landing between the two extremely intimidating men, and crossed his arms. 

The Punisher guffawed, disbelieving, but Peter carried on and gave the man a taste of his own grape-flavored medicine. “Thanks for letting me stay, Mister Daredevil, but I’ve got to be going.” He said, making sure to mind his manners. 

“Not so fast, kid,” Matt began, promptly ignoring Peter’s squeaky “I’m not a kid!” God, the puberty voice really wasn’t helping him with the whole ‘I'm an adult’ shtick. ‘You can’t help it, your body’s changing,’ Aunt May’s voice rings through his head. Eww. 

“We have to talk about some stuff before you leave,” Matt says sternly, placing his coffee on his counter and motioning to a stool across from him.

“I can’t, I’m late for school!” Peter objected, and fuck. He heard the Punisher's breath hitch as his stomach dropped and went ‘splat’ on the floor, his heart so close to beating out of his chest that it physically hurt. Everyone froze as they all realized his mistake, and time stopped.

Then it started again. 

“God fucking damnit!” Frank Castle roared, stomping one of his legs and screaming. “Fuck!” He cried, hitting the wall behind him. If Peter weren’t so completely and utterly terrified, he would have laughed at how much the big bad punisher looked like a child throwing a tantrum. 

Peter figured some of the other vigilantes might have been mad at him, but he didn’t think it was this bad. He took a step back, bumping into the couch, which made an awful noise as it scraped the floor that seemed to snap Matt out of his trance and realize his friend was going to destroy his house.

“Frank,” Matt tried, reaching for the distraught man, but was ignored in favor of The Punisher yelling “Fuck!” at the top of his lungs.

“Frank!” Matt repeated louder, grabbing the man roughly. Mr.Castle fought to get out of his grip, but Matt held firm. “You’re scaring him.” Those seemed to be the magic words, as the previously TooLoudTooAngryTooViolent man deflated, becoming too quiet and too sad. 

“I’m sorry” Peter spoke, not exactly sure what he was apologizing for but knowing he wanted these men to like him (help him- no. He doesn’t need help. Nothing is wrong). Too his growing distress that only seemed to make his fellow vigilante more upset. “Really, I’m sorry, I can go-”

“No.” The Punisher spoke, not looking at him. “You're not going anywhere. Sit.” 

Not one to argue with the man with the guns (lie), Peter complied. 

Taking a deep breath, Matt looked at him and said, scarily calm, “Take off your mask.” 

Peter contemplates saying no. Would they make him? Peter isn’t sure he could escape daredevil, but he doesn’t have his suit or his weapons on him. Mr.Castle, on the other hand … No. Peter does not enjoy being shot, even with his healing factor. 

Fingers trembling, Peter fumbles with the bottom of his mask, hoping to whatever fucking deity that he wasn’t going to cry. Lifting his mask off, Frank takes a sharp inhale, his grip on the counter top tightening. 

“Who?” He asks with gritted teeth, a violent look in his eye. 

“Huh?” Peter asks, not knowing what the fuck was happening. He had expected a how, or a why, but did not anticipate this. 

“Who’s making you do this?” Matt elaborates, since Mr.Castle was apparently too angry to form a coherent sentence. 

“Nobody!” Peter blurts, eyes wide, seeing that this was a very big misunderstanding. “I got my powers and knew I had to help people! He just helps me sometimes. I promise!” 

The two adults shared a look, and oh my god, Peter hates when adults do that. Why are they doing it? Matt can’t even see!

“Who’s he?” Matt asks, and Peter can’t help but curl in on himself. He really didn’t want to think about him. 

“Mr.Stark.”


End file.
